'Til Death Do Us Part

by Eliza Daly

  “This place stinks,” Lucy wailed over the loud whirring of the fan, lighting another incense stick.

  “Thought the fish they brought in were stuffed and mounted. What’s this smell?”

  The bon voyage funeral Sally and Lucy planned had turned into a fishing funeral. The man had owned a charter company on Lake Michigan.

  “A bunch of guys working this morning caught a humongous trout and had this bright idea that it’d make a great farewell gift. The widow about had a stroke when they suggested burying the thing with her husband. I don’t have time for this. I got the forms down to two hundred and twenty-one, but we received almost another thousand today. Better get working on them.”

  Kenny walked in dressed in a navy suit and a brightly colored Finding Nemo tie. “What’s for dinner?” He sniffed the air. “Let me guess, broiled haddock? No wait”—more sniffing—“deep fried perch?” He laughed, but his smile faded when Lucy looked like she might strap an anchor to his leg and dump him in the middle of Lake Michigan. “How about we grill some burgers?”

  Lucy glared at Kenny behind the lit match in her hand, looking like some possessed character from a Stephen King movie. “Beef is bad for your diet.”

  “I’ll buy ground round.”

  “Fine. Do what you want. You will anyway. It’s all about you,” Lucy shrieked, lighting another candle.

  At least they were back to talking. Still, Kenny looked freaked out by Lucy’s outburst and sudden pyromaniac tendencies. He retreated quietly out the back door.

  “I can finish the forms,” Cassidy said. “Take a break and see how things are going at the café.”

  “What, now you’re telling me what I want and don’t want to do? I want kids. That’s what I want.”

  “He never said he didn’t want kids.”

  “Since when do you stick up for Kenny?”

  Never. She wasn’t sticking up for him. Was she? Cassidy blew out the match just shy of it burning Lucy’s finger.

  “I honestly don’t think he meant he doesn’t want kids. You guys need to talk about this.”

  “Why bother? We talked about it before we got married and he seems to have forgotten the entire conversation. We said we’d wait until after we’d been married a few years to start a family. And now he doesn’t want them at all. I have to have kids.” Lucy acted as if having kids was as crucial to her survival as oxygen. “I don’t want him having them if he doesn’t want them.”

  Precisely why it was so important that Cassidy matched Ryan’s desires to his fiancée’s. The more compatible they were, the better chance they had at making it.

  “Ryan called me on my way home. He wants to get together tomorrow and go over the questionnaire I’ve been trying to get him to fill out and to do an interview. But we have a lot of applications to go through.”

  Lucy took a calming breath and plastered on a perky smile. “I’m fine, was just having a moment. You should meet with him. We’ll have the applications done before noon tomorrow easily.”

  “Why his sudden change of heart when he was so adamant about not completing it?”

  Erica Turner?

  “Just be happy he wants to do the thing. Where are you getting together?”

  “Not certain, he’s calling me back. Can’t be the mansion, since the media is camped out there. Besides, when he gets away from work and his family, like today, he relaxes and opens up.”

  “Hey, the café closes at three tomorrow. You could sneak in the back without being seen and have the place to yourself.”

  She didn’t want the place to herself. Since their kiss, she’d only been alone with Ryan briefly in the skybox, and look what had happened during the National Anthem. They needed to meet in a public place, like the zoo, yet they couldn’t take another chance of being seen together, especially when Nick hadn’t yet leaked her current role and the scandal to the media. Oddly enough, the absence of an article about her past had helped lessen her anger over the headline about Ryan comparing his future wife to an investment. Guess the café would be an ideal location.

  “Can you concoct a tea that works like a truth serum and get him to spill his guts?” Cassidy joked.

  Lucy pondered the idea. “Absolutely. Just get him there and leave the rest to me.” She set the incense on a chair. “I have something for you.” She returned with a small bronze statue of a dove and handed it to Cassidy.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I know how much you like mourning doves. I’m not certain if that is actually a mourning dove, but it’s a dove.”

  “Thank you, I love it.”

  “It’s the top seller for urns.”

  “Urns?”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t even know it. Looks just like a statue. It’s the ashes from your wedding album. Thought you might want to mourn its loss.”

  How perfect. A symbol of love now held her dying childhood dreams.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By early the next afternoon, Cassidy sat on the living room floor, thumbing through the stack of potential fiancée forms. She would definitely find a perfect match for Ryan. She and Lucy had narrowed down the latest applications to 93, for a grand total of 314 before Lucy headed over to the café to conduct a staff meeting.

  There were a lot of great candidates, especially Erica Turner, whose application was on top of the pile. What if Ryan actually fell in love with her or one of the other women? What if he committed to her? Heart thumping wildly, she grabbed a stack of applications from the frowning face box and exchanged them with the ones in her hand.

  If she tossed them into the smiley face box, nobody would know. Lucy wouldn’t be reviewing the final videos or interviewing the women who made the final cut. She’d have no clue what Cassidy had done. She didn’t know every application Cassidy had . . .

  What the hell was she doing?

  What happened to being unable to arrange a marriage doomed from the start? To being ethically obligated to finding Ryan’s soul mate? To regaining her reputation and starting fresh with a new company, a new life? They’d shared one fun day together. She was physically attracted to him. Big deal. She was nowhere near as good of a match for Ryan as one of these women would be. Besides, he was not what she wanted in a husband.

  What did she want in a husband?

  Get a grip! She had to get it together and maintain her professionalism. She was just starting to regain her financial stability, career, and dignity. She wasn’t about to compromise her integrity, the only thing she had left.

  She tossed the applications in their appropriate boxes and backed away. She bolted down to her bedroom where she exchanged her short white skirt and low-cut shirt for tan slacks and a white shirt buttoned to her neck and secured with her grandma’s antique floral pin. A pair of Lucy’s hideous, nonprescription red glasses were the finishing touch.

  She headed downstairs, trying to forget what just happened.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  Cassidy whisked out the side door, hoping Ryan wouldn’t beat her to the café. Kenny was filling the bird feeder, wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read Either he’s dead or my watch has stopped—Groucho Marx. Being on call 24-7, he rarely dressed down. You had to sort of admire his dedication to his job.

  “Can’t afford to keep feeding these damn things. Especially that mourning dove.” He glared up at the roof where the dove sat perched on the edge, anxiously waiting for lunch to be served.

  “She lost her mate, give her a break.”

  “What, he knocked her up then hit the road? That’s classic.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That stinking nest in the flowerbox on the garage. This is what I get for being nice and feeding them. Now I’ll have an entire family of these things scarfing down birdseed.”

  Maybe the mourning dove hadn’t lost its mate. They were merely sharing the duty of watching over the nest. Crazy, but the news gave Cassidy a sense of hope. A couple that was actually still together.<
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  Kenny set the bag of seed on the porch, then resumed buffing the hearse.

  “Renting it out for a bachelor party?” Cassidy quipped.

  “No, but that’s a great idea. Ole Stella here is a goldmine.”

  Kind of morbid, yet endearing, that he’d named the hearse after his dead grandmother.

  “Got a half-dozen calls after that last birthday party.”

  “How’s the hunt for a new funeral planner?”

  “Shitty.”

  “Surprised you don’t make Lucy help out.”

  “I’ve never asked Lucy to help out with the funeral home. Knew when I married her she wouldn’t be part of the family business. I keep her away from death as much as possible. She feeds me any more of that natural crap, I’m going to be shitting bark and sprouting leaves. Hopefully, she isn’t as weird about our son working in the business.”

  “Your son? So you do want kids?”

  Kenny whipped the rag on the hood of the hearse, his gaze darting over to her. “I’m not taking the blame for that. The subject hadn’t come up since we got married, and when Lucy started her business, I assumed she didn’t want kids anymore. I mean, how can she run a business full time and take care of a family?” His beady brown eyes softened, and he picked up the rag and gently buffed where it had smudged the hood. “I want whatever she wants. I’d be happy either way. As long as I have Luce, everything else is just,” he glanced at the rag in his hand, “wax on a car.” His eyes appeared to be misting over.

  Omigod. Was he going to cry?

  “I better get over to the café. I’m running late.”

  She bolted toward her car parked on the street. She could deal with Kenny being crude, obnoxious, and cheap. But she could not handle him crying on her shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cassidy arrived at the café ten minutes before Ryan was due. So much for having time to review the questionnaire and prep for their interview. She zipped through the back door and Diana Krall’s “Let’s Fall in Love” and a spicy exotic aroma led her down the dimly lit hallway. Lucy stood at a back corner table, lighting a red taper candle. Flames flickered on a row of pink pillar candles lining the ledge on the wall behind her. She was surprised Lucy had any matches left after yesterday.

  “What’s all this?” Cassidy gestured to the candles.

  “You said he needs to be relaxed to open up.”

  “Relaxed, not seduced.”

  “You’re not seducing him. Certainly not in that outfit.”

  “It’s supposed to be cooler out today.” But it would be a good fifty degrees warmer in here once Ryan arrived.

  “And what’s with the glasses?”

  “Hope you don’t mind I borrowed them. They went with the outfit.”

  “Whatever,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I did a quick feng shui job like in his office, using reds and pinks.”

  Cassidy scanned the underside of the table and chairs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure there isn’t a thong hidden under here.”

  “Oops, forgot about that. Better take yours off and stick it under there.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The mere thought of sitting across from Ryan, sans underwear, caused a rush of heat through her.

  “You don’t serve champagne here.” Cassidy snatched the flutes off the table and blew out the taper candles.

  “Thought you might want to celebrate all the applications we’ve been receiving. And two flutes symbolize a couple, just like the two taper candles.”

  “If he walks in and sees all this, he’s going to bolt.” She blew out the candles on the ledge and gathered them up while Lucy grunted in disapproval. “Mind helping?”

  Lucy reluctantly removed the taper candles from the table.

  “Take off that tablecloth. He’s going to wonder why this is the only table with a linen.”

  “Thought you agreed feng shui was a good way to bring love into his life?”

  It was, when it didn’t involve bringing lust into her own. And that was all her feelings were for Ryan. Lust had almost made her compromise everything she’d been working so hard for.

  “It won’t work if he’s aware of it. He’d never believe in all this. His negativity alone would prevent love from happening.” Cassidy stashed the candles and flutes behind the counter. “Besides, I can’t help but think you had an ulterior motive. Remember, we had an agreement.”

  Lucy gave her an incredulous look. “This has nothing to do with Ryan and you.”

  Yeah, right. Cassidy went over to close the blinds.

  “Leave those open.”

  “I don’t want people walking by and looking in here.”

  “They won’t see you. I have a screen.” Lucy dragged an oriental rice paper screen over from the wall and positioned it in front of the table—making it look all the more intimate. “The room has to be well lit or he’ll be less receptive to opening up and welcoming in a new relationship.”

  Cassidy conceded with a groan.

  “There’s hot water in the machine; help yourself to tea or cider. Or there’s iced tea in the fridge.”

  “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

  “If I stay, I’ll make him uncomfortable.”

  “You can’t stay out here, but you can stay in your office. Don’t you have some paperwork you need to catch up on?”

  “Yeah, back at home. I’m going to swing by the brewery and pick up more applications.” Lucy’s eyes filled with curiosity behind her white glasses. “Why do you want me to stay so bad?”

  Because even without the candles, champagne, and romantic music, Cassidy would have a hard time focusing on business. And this was definitely business.

  A knock sounded at the back door, and her heart responded with an even harder pounding.

  “Don’t forget to lock up.” Lucy tossed Cassidy the keys, then escaped out the front door.

  Cassidy pushed up her glasses. She could do this. First sign of any lustful thoughts, she’d picture beer belly guys belching.

  She opened the door to find Ryan dressed in a pair of khakis, a white cotton shirt, and deck shoes. Together, they looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.

  Ryan smiled. “Nice outfit.”

  So they both appreciated the feel of cotton. Big whoop. They had one thing in common.

  “Especially the glasses.”

  So much for the glasses. She slid them on top of her head. She waved at Charlie behind the wheel of a dry cleaning van. He tipped his hat in greeting, then drove off.

  She led Ryan inside. “The Look of Love” was playing. The last thing she needed was Diana Krall’s sultry, seductive voice adding more lust to the room. She walked over to turn it off.

  “Leave it on, I like this song.”

  “It might be disruptive.”

  “I listen to music while working at home all the time.”

  “Then I’ll just turn it down a tad.” She turned it to barely audible.

  “So this is the famous An Herb a Day Café,” he mused, scoping out the place. “Smells good. Like . . . peppermint.”

  Out of all the scents in the place, he’d zoned in on her new shower gel?

  He stepped toward her, sniffing the air just inches from her neck. “I think it’s your perfume. Nice.”

  She swallowed hard. “Thanks.” She zipped around to the other side of the counter, putting a barrier between them. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Let’s see what you have.” He opened the tea menu on the counter and perused it.

  “Sorry, I don’t know how to make most of the teas, but I have iced tea, apple cider, or bottled water.”

  “Thought you wanted me to invest in the place? Can’t hardly do that without conducting some research.”

  Was he seriously considering investing?

  “Looks like tea can cure everything from balding to impotence. Hope I don’t have to worry about either for some time.” He smiled,
continuing to scan the selections. “I had something the other day with a licorice flavor.”

  “That would be licorice tea.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He was actually admitting he liked tea?

  “Have a seat and I’ll make it.” She gestured toward the back table.

  She whipped up a mug of tea and an apple cider for herself. She brought them over to the table and sat, her foot kicking something over. They peered under the table to find the set of red taper candles toppled over on the floor.

  Lucy.

  “Aren’t those supposed to go on the table?” he asked.

  “No, they aren’t.” She ignored them, removing the papers from her briefcase. Having him complete the personality questionnaire was more important than the interview. The marketing department would run the women’s forms against Ryan’s and rank their compatibility. “I’ll start by asking you questions about your potential partner. For each characteristic you answer not important, somewhat important, or very important.”

  “A rather odd way to interview.”

  “This is the questionnaire.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I took that with me and filled it out, and we concentrate on the interview?”

  “It’ll go much faster if I take the first answer that pops into your head and you don’t spend time thinking about it. The first answer is always the most honest. Besides, I really need it today.”

  He shifted in the chair, no doubt uncomfortable with the idea of providing her directly with the answers.

  She removed the cinnamon stick from her cider and gently sucked on it, waiting for the beverage to cool while scanning the questionnaire and reviewing the format. She glanced over at Ryan to find him watching her with interest. Her lower lip started pulsating. She slid the stick from her mouth and stuck it back in the mug.

  She straightened in her chair, taking on a professional tone. “Okay, first question. My partner’s honesty.”

  “Very important.”